CHAPTER XIII
THE GREAT ILLUMINATION
The next morning the two girls met, as though absolutely nothingunpleasant had happened. These little differences were, as a fact, offrequent occurrence, and neither of them ever cherished the least grudgetoward the other when they were over. Not a word was said in referenceto it by either, but Cynthia noticed Joyce looking at her rathercuriously several times. Finally she asked:
"What are you staring at me so for, Joyce?"
"Oh, nothing! I wasn't staring," Joyce replied, and began to talk ofsomething else.
"By the way, Cyn, why wouldn't it be a good idea to wait till next weekbefore we have our illumination? Perhaps we could get more candles bythat time, too. I vote for next Saturday instead of to-day."
"I can't see why you want to wait," replied Cynthia. "To-day is just asgood a time as any. In fact, I think it's better. Something might happenthat would entirely prevent it next week. No, let's have it to-day. Myheart is set on it."
"Very well then," assented Joyce. "But, do you know, I believe, if thistime is a success, we might have it again next Saturday, too."
"Well, you can have it if you like, and if you can raise the money forcandles," laughed Cynthia; "but you mustn't depend on me. I'll be'cleaned out' by that time!"
That morning they carefully dusted the drawing-room and library of theBoarded-up House.
"We'll put the candles in the drawing-room, in the big candelabrum. Thatwill take about forty--and we'll have enough for the library too," saidCynthia, planning the campaign. "And the rest of the candles we'll putin the 'locked-up room.' Let's go right up there now and dust it!"
"Oh, what do you want to light _that_ room for!" cried Joyce. "Don'tlet's go in there. It makes me blue--even to think of it!" But Cynthiawas obdurate.
"I want it lit up!" she announced. "If you don't feel like going up,I'll go myself. I don't mind. But I want candles there!"
"Oh, if you insist, of course I'll go! But really, Cynthia, I don'tquite understand you to-day. You want to do such queer things!"
"I don't see anything _queer_ about that!" retorted Cynthia, blushinghotly. "It just seemed--somehow--appropriate!"
But Joyce, in spite of her protests, accompanied Cynthia up the tiny,cramped stairway, the entrance to which they had not blocked byrestoring the book-shelves.
"What a strange thing it is,--this secret stairway!" she marveled aloud."I'm sure it _is_ a secret stairway, and that it was long unused, evenbefore Mrs. Collingwood left here. I even feel pretty certain that shenever knew it was here."
"How do you figure that out?" questioned Cynthia.
"Well, in several ways. For one thing, because it was all closed up andpapered over. That could have been done before she came here, and youknow she only lived in this house eighteen years. But mainly becausethere wouldn't have been much sense in her locking up the room (if she_did_ lock it) had she known there was another easy way of getting intoit. No, I somehow don't think she knew!"
They did their dusting in the locked-up room, and tried to make it lookas ship-shape as possible, carefully avoiding, however, the vicinity ofthe desk. Cynthia arranged six candles in holders, ready to light, andthey went down stairs again to arrange the others,--a task that wasaccomplished with some difficulty, as the candelabrum was rather high,and they were obliged to stand on chairs. At last all was ready and theyhurried home to luncheon, agreeing to meet at two for the "greatillumination"!
When they returned that afternoon, Cynthia had smuggled over thegas-lighter, which they found a boon indeed in lighting so many candlesat such a height. When every tongue of flame was sparkling softly, thegirls stepped back to admire the result.
"Isn't it the prettiest thing you ever saw?" cried Joyce in an ecstasyof admiration. "It beats a Christmas-tree all hollow! I've always heardthat candle-light was the loveliest of all artificial illumination, andnow I believe it. Just see how this room is positively transformed! Wenever _saw_ those pictures properly before."
"Now it looks as it did fifty years ago," said Cynthia, softly. "Ofcourse, houses _were_ lighted by gas then, but only city ones or thosenear the city. I know, because I've been asking about it. Other peoplehad to use horrid oil-lamps. But there were _some_ who kept on havingcandles because they preferred that kind of light--especially incountry-houses. And evidently this was one of them."
Joyce eyed her curiously.
"You've certainly been interested in the question of illumination, halfa century ago,--but _why_, Cynthia? I never knew you to go so deeplyinto anything of this kind before!" Cynthia started, and blushed again.
"Do you think so," she stammered. "Oh, well!--it's only becausethis--this house has taken hold of me--somehow. I can't get it out of mymind, day or night!"
"Yes," cried Joyce, "and I remember the day when I could hardly induceyou to enter it! I just had to _pull_ you in, and you disputed everyinch of the way!"
"That's the way with me," returned Cynthia. "I'm not quick about goinginto things, but once I'm _in_, you can't get me out! And nothing I everknew of has made me feel as this house has. Now I'm going to light thecandles in the locked-up room."
"That's the one thing _I_ can't understand!" protested Joyce, as theyclimbed the tiny stairs once more. "You seem perfectly crazy about thatroom, and it makes me so--so _depressed_ that I hate to go near it! Ilike the library and the picture of the Lovely Lady best."
There was nothing to do but sit and enjoy the spectacle]
Cynthia did not reply to this but lit the candles and gave a last lookabout. Then they returned to the drawing-room. As there was nothingfurther to do but sit and enjoy the spectacle, the two girls cuddleddown on a roomy old couch or sofa, and watched with all the fascinationthat one watches the soft illumination of a Christmas-tree. Sometimesthey talked in low voices, commenting on the scene, then they would besilent for a long period, simply drinking it in and trying to photographit forever on their memories. Joyce frankly and openly enjoyed it all,but Cynthia seemed nervous and restless. She began at length to wriggleabout, got up twice and walked around restlessly, and looked at herwatch again and again.
"I wonder how long these candles will last?" questioned Joyce, glancingat her own timepiece. "They aren't a third gone yet. Oh, I could sithere and look at this for hours! It's all so different from anythingwe've ever seen."
"_What's that!_" exclaimed Cynthia, suddenly and Joyce straightened upto listen more intently.
"I don't hear anything. What _is_ the matter with you to-day, CynthiaSprague?"
"I don't know. I'm nervous, I guess!"
"There-- I _did_ hear something!" It was Joyce who spoke. "The queerest_click_! Good gracious, Cynthia! Just suppose somebody should take itinto his head to get in here to-day! Of _all_ times! And find this goingon!" But Cynthia was not listening to Joyce. She was straining her earsin another direction.
"There it is again! Somebody is at that front door!" cried Joyce. "Ibelieve they must have seen these lights through some chink in theboarding and are breaking in to find out what's the matter! Perhaps theythink--"
_Cr-r-r-rack!_-- Something gave with a long, resounding noise, and thetwo girls clasped each other in an agony of terror. It came from thefront door, there was no shadow of doubt, and somebody had justsucceeded in opening the little door in the boarding. There was stillthe big main door to pass.
"Come!--quick!--quick!" whispered Joyce. "It will _never_ do for us tobe found here. We might be arrested for trespassing! Let's slip downcellar and out through the window, and perhaps we can get away withoutbeing seen. Never mind the candles! They'll never know who put themthere!-- Hurry!" She clutched at Cynthia, expecting instantacquiescence. But, to her amazement, Cynthia stood firm, and boldlydeclared:
"No, Joyce, I'm not going to run away! Even if we got out without beingseen, they'd be sure to discover us sooner or later. We've left enoughof our things around for that. I'm going to meet whoever it is, and tellthem we haven't done any real harm,--and so must
you!"
All during this speech they could hear the rattle of some one working atthe lock of the main door. And a second after Cynthia finished, ityielded with another loud crack. Next, footsteps were heard in the hall.By this time, Joyce was so paralyzed with fright that she could scarcelymove a limb, and speech had entirely deserted her. They were caught asin a trap! There was no escape now. It was a horrible position.Cynthia, however, pulled her to her feet.
"Come!" she ordered. "We'd better meet them and face it out!" Joycecould only marvel at her astonishing coolness, who had always been themost timid and terror-ridden of mortals.
At this instant, the drawing-room door was pushed open!